Werewolves of London
by StaraLaura
Summary: Sandy’s moving to, in her opinion, the most boring place on earth. But when she meets a person with all of the dullest of personalities possible, she finds herself holding onto her newest dream. My comeback story. T for... reasons. R&R!
1. SOS Save Our Sandy

SxMFan: I'm BAAAAAAAAAACK~!! Haha, I guess this new story is going to be a makeup for my unexcused absence. No, I'm not kidding, I just decided to log onto FanFiction for the first time in about five months. Eighth grade is fun, so I guess I spent more time with my friends and on deviantART. I just realized that I after I left, the Hamtaro section is kind of… dead. I'm sad now. So anyway, I'm here! And I'm ready to start writing because I just took a shower and I have my hot chocolate and I'm sorry for disappearing so, here ya go! Because I'm out of practice, this story won't be taken seriously and won't be my top priority. But since it's about Sandy, I'll probably update this once in a while.

Summary: Sandy's moving to, in her opinion, the most boring place on earth. Boring food, boring shops, and most importantly, boring people. But when she meets a person with all of the dullest of personalities possible, she finds herself holding onto her newest dream. It's going to take her annoying brother, a foreign friend, and a cup of tea to make her wish come true.

Warning: It's ham human. If you don't like ham human, click the back button and don't read any of my stories.

Dedicated to: My British readers. Even if I've never gotten a review from one of them… I think. HEY, BRITONS, CLICK THE REVIEW BUTTON TO SEE IF I WAS ACCURATE WITH THIS! Haha, but seriously, I love seeing the graph on my profile say that I have a reader on the other side of the world. It really makes me happy.

Chapter 1: SOS (Save Our Sandy)

"I'm king of world!" Stan screamed at the top of his lungs, sprawling his arms out and leaning out of the top of the double decker bus. His hair waved a little as a gust of wind playfully touched his face while the gloomy sky proved to be something different.

_Idiot,_ I thought. I didn't say it out loud, of course, because there was my parents seated next to me and other tourists scattered on the bus. I gripped my umbrella loosely in my hands, twitching slightly at the thought of rain pouring down on my face. The sky was threatening and it's eeriness made me wonder how anyone could ever live here. I was here for a week and today was the only day there was no shower from the sky up above. When the bus started moving, Stan sat back down, his eyes scanning for any pretty girl that caught his interest. I rolled my eyes and avoided my dad's sad smile.

See, I didn't want to be here in London, England, the dullest place I have ever seen. Canada sounded cooler right now ('Cuz who doesn't love their bacon?). The only reason I was here was because my family had decided to move. My dad works for the New York Times and he got assigned to do some story about the British soldiers stationed in Iraq. Unfortunately, they thought it was best if he wrote in Britain and apparently, kept him there. I was quite upset, mainly because I haven't lived anywhere except New York City and had loved the place to death. It was the most unexpected, coolest place I had been to and I was proud to have lived there. Hey, it's not like I've never been out of the country, it's just… I've never been out of the country. Well, there was that time we crossed the border into Mexico by accident when my dad got lost during a road trip to Arizona, but I should probably be talking about this town. So, yeah, to make things short and sweet and to the point...

My dad made my brother Stan, my mom, and I move here, saying that it would teach me a little culture. As if this place had any. Oh, and there's his job, that's a big one.

My brother Stan thinks that it's awesome because he'll get to "score with some British chicks".

My mom just wants to go shopping. Do I? No.

So there's nothing in it for me. Stan argues that I'll meet some cool guys here. I'd happily go pleading on my knees for a dude from Australia than some Englishman.

Now, I'm not being racist or anything if that's what you're thinking, but for the long amount of time that I've been here, all the people, guys and girls included, have done nothing more than glare at me. I don't know if it's my hair, my clothes, or even my face, but the least they could do was show a little gratitude whenever I'd give them a little wave. To be extra, super polite one day, I walked up to a lady with a scone in my left hand and a napkin in the other. I put the napkin on her table and placed the scone on top, giving her my biggest smile. "The waiter told me to bring you this, ma'am," I said in my sweetest voice. "Enjoy!" Then, she totally went off on me, calling me a bugger (Whatever that means) and asking me if that was a threat. I was out of there in less than a second. When I asked my mom about it, she told me that in Great Britain, it's considered a bit of a command if you say "Enjoy your meal!" or "Have a nice day!". So much for jolly, old England.

"Sis, aren't you so happy to be here?" Stan laughed, putting an arm around my shoulder. If we were in Florida or the Bahamas I would have said yes. But since I'm here, I remained silent. After a couple of seconds, Stan punched me lightly on the shoulder and continued. "C'mon, Sandy, it's not like it's the end of the world."

"Yes it is," I grumbled, putting my face in my hands. "I miss home. I don't want to be here."

For the slightest second, I thought he would have comforted me about it, but he just let out a boisterous laugh and that made me even more ticked off. "Dude, you're in one of the greatest cities of the world. Like, I thought you always wanted to go to Sydney or Paris or some place like that. What's the difference here?"

"The accent."

He wrinkled his nose in disapproval and his eyes pleaded for me to like this place. I wasn't moved. After five awkward seconds, had scooted away from me and looked out at the water as we went over a bridge. Feeling a little regret, I continued to focus gripping my umbrella so it would snap in half. Before I knew it, we had gotten to our destination and my family swung down the ladder to get off, myself dragging behind.

My new home was still having all the stuff moved into it. So for now, my family and I stayed in a hotel. I spent most of my first week in England gluing my eyes onto my laptop up in the kitchen, gathering all of the birthday e-cards from friends back in America. The one that had touched my heart most was from my best friend, Pashmina, whom I met in preschool. She was totally different from me, only interested in shopping and helping people with their problems while there was me, wanting to jump into mud and beat up kids for their lunch money. You would think she would hate me, but in preschool, I remember some mean dude ripping up her pink scarf because he thought pink was stupid. I beat him to a pulp and since I was too young to be grounded, my parents just gave me the old "Don't do it again" kind of thing. Pashmina kind of stayed at my side from that point on and had always helped me on my crushes and such, since she didn't care much for guys. I remember I had this totally _mad _crush on a kid named Panda in second grade and she was the one who gave me all the tips for walking up a boy and saying hi. Panda was a shy guy and at the beginning of fourth grade, I had kind of grown out of my crush on him, but we're good friends to this day. His birthday wish made me smile too. It wasn't my birthday until June 6th, which was next week, but I had gotten an email from everyone in my high school either wishing me a happy birthday or a good time in the UK. I ignored anything that mentioned London and read over every funny e-card five times each.

"Sandy, can you go get a carton of milk for me to make dinner?" my mom called to me once I had reached the hotel room after we got off of the double decker bus. I let out a small sigh and threw my dad the room key, walking towards the elevator we had just ridden. I could hear my dad whisper, "Why is she going?" and my mom replied, "I was hoping she could see the town by herself. I think the poor girl needs some alone time."

Pip pip cheerio, my arse.

* * *

I was walking briskly towards the supermarket. There was only one in this place since many people ran their own shops and I guess no one here believed in a giant business. Again… How can anyone survive here? Keeping my head down, I tried to make my way through the crowd, shoving my fists in my pockets angrily. I was downright outrageous that I was the one who had to get the stupid milk. It was just so… stupid! I had e-mailed Pashmina the night before and was almost shaking with excitement for her reply. Instead of sitting at my computer doing something important today, my family decided to take a bus ride through the city to only see the sights, not actually go out and take pictures of them. I guess if you lived somewhere, you didn't have to take pictures except for your friends who were in town and you had to show them anything and everything. But still, getting a shot of Big Ben would have brightened my day a little bit.

In my opinion, the only thing I liked about the United Kingdom was the music. I mean, how could you not like bands like Queen or Maximo Park? And of course, you could think of the greats like the Beatles or The Rolling Stones. To be honest with you, their rock is a lot better than American rock, what with a guy named Jingle back home listening to screamo. It drove me insane. So, I took my iPod out and chose "Books and Boxes" by Maximo Park over "Burn It to the Ground" by Nickelback. Halfway into the song, I passed by this group of boys about my age hanging out at the entrance of Cambridge School. There were four of them, each in their own uniform that came from something like Harry Potter. I couldn't help but stare at them all, each boy chatting and laughing with one another. One boy had his eyes reading a book, but he was talking and chuckling along with all of them. They were nothing like my stereotype for Britons and looked more like my kind of people. I stared at the British money thing in my hand (I swear, it was fairy money) and the paper felt as if it was pleading to be spent on something. Caught in between choosing to buy milk like my mom said and talking to these guys was like being choked. If I walked up to them, they would think that I was some idiot who hit her head one too many times, but if I went to go buy the milk, they could be gone before I got back. The last thing I wanted was to lose the chance of making just one friend here. Being lonely wasn't the best thing and I had endured it for a week. Hastily stuffing the money in my pockets, I put my head up and starting making my way towards them.

At first, they all looked up, even the boy reading the book. I froze, but smiled at them warmly. They still stared at me as if I was Irish dancing. You would think they would be a little more gentlemanly, this was England, for Pete's sake! So, being cool and controlled, I turned right and started heading for the school's entrance, walking up the cement stairs and sitting down on the top step. I took out the fairy money and pretended to count it. They all went back to talking.

Jerks.

I let out a groan by accident and a guy with blonde hair spoke. "Something wrong?"

I quickly put my head down, the money looking like a blank piece of paper to me. "No, I'm fine," I said quietly. Of course, I wasn't fine. I was miserable, but I couldn't tell these guys that. I was afraid they would just run away from me. It was as if someone else was speaking. That wasn't my voice, my voice would have screamed out "No, I hate this place, I hate everything about it and I just want to go back home to see my real friends!". I pressed my fingers to my eyelids to push back the tears that were trying to escape as I thought of Pashmina and all of my other friends that were on the other side of the ocean. A shock went down my spine as I realized that I was all alone here, my family wasn't by me and I was accompanied by four strangers.

"Hey, hey, no need to cry," a shorter boy with red hair said in a Scottish accent, seating himself next to me. I really did appreciate how he was trying to make me feel better, but what could he do?

"Are you lost?" the boy with the book asked me, politeness and chivalry burning lightly in his British accent. The way he spoke gave me three seconds of entertainment as I shook my head.

"Well, like me mum always said," a guy with a darker shade of red hair chuckled, leaning against a wall. "Why do today when you can put it off tomorrow?"

The blonde punched him on the shoulder. "Really now, Clarkland, how does that help the girl?"

"I was just trying to help!"

"Some help," the boy with the book said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. I couldn't help but giggle. They were all so nice, I felt kind of like a baby for nearly crying. This group was something you could get used too. As the blonde and red head argued, the boy with the book sat down on my right side, the other red head on my left. "That's Collin." Bookdude pointed to the boy next to me. I smiled at him and he beamed at me. "Peter is the blond one. Connor is the annoying one."

"I am not!" Connor yelled, taking a break from his fight with Peter.

"Yes, you are," Collin chortled. He turned to me. "Connor and I are brothers, just so you know. Moved here from Scotland when we were five."

"Oh, yeah, well I'm from _Wales_ and moved to London when I was eight," Peter bragged and Connor slapped him upside the head.

"Thank you for wasting two seconds of my life that I'll never get back," Connor scolded and Peter gave him a dirty look. I didn't know whether or not I should laugh or feel bad for Peter.

"And Maxwell here was born, raised, and probably will die in England," Collin introduced, gesturing to the brunette on my right. Maxwell blushed for some strange reason when I grinned at him. His red face looked away, focusing on Peter and Connor's bickering. I myself felt a tinge of pink disperse across my face.

"If you're wondering, they fight a lot," Collin whispered to me, referring to the two others in front of us. I giggled when I thought of Dexter and Howdy back home, two boys who would always fight over Pashmina. They just loved to fight, it was actually pretty funny to watch and seeing Connor and Peter fight made me think of home. I closed my eyes.

_Home._ That word never sounded sweeter. But my home was going to be on Kent Avenue and not in an apartment near Chinatown. I was, once again, realized of how I would never be going back. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face and everyone had stopped what they were doing to gather around me. I put my face in my hands as they asked so many questions. I don't know about you, but whenever I cry, I look away. I really hate people seeing me cry, it just makes me feel so weak. None of the boys approached me or tried to do anything except demanding me if I was okay. Well, at least they weren't like the people back home who would pull me into a bear hug. I was happy that they left me have a little space. I finally managed to control myself and rubbed my eyes with my hoodie's sleeve and everyone looked a little relieved.

"Don't keep doing that, I swear, I was going to die of a heart attack if you keep going all sad on us," Collin commented and I shoved him lightly, smiling a little. The look in my eyes told them not to ask why I had cried and instead, they asked for my name. I heartily gave them an answer.

"Sandy? Short for Sandra I presume?" Maxwell asked me and I nodded. I was glad he didn't notice me cringing when he said Sandra.

"So where you from, Sandy the Sandra?" Connor asked me. I opened my mouth to answer when Collin interrupted.

"Wait, let me guess… Based on your hair and your tan…" He searched my eyes and face. "You're an Aussie!"

"What are you crazy?" Maxwell chastised. He turned to me. It was then I realized how tall he was. I swear, he was looming over me. "She looks more Canadian."

"For Ireland's sake, I hope she's not French," Conner said, his fingers stroking his chin in thought. Everyone nodded and it shattered my brain to think of why they didn't like the French.

"I'm a little French, but I'm mostly German, Irish… And I think Scottish," I murmured shyly. "So I'm an American mutt."

"You're from America?" Connor asked me. I bobbed my head up and down, my short, side ponytail following my lead. I put on this look of pride that went in vain. Everyone had this funny smirk on their faces and Connor hummed, "Oh, nooooooo…"

My face kind of heated up and I was ready to bash him for having something against Americans, but I guess that I kind of deserved it for thinking Britons were boring. Then, Peter zoomed up to me and winked. "In that case, you can dump tea in my harbor any day."

Back home, I used to always stop Stan from flirting with any girl and that usually led him to being slapped or punished in a way that used force. And I really didn't mean to slap Peter smack across the face since he was a funny guy, but it just kind of happened. I blame my wicked fast reflexes.

After Peter had the wind knocked out of him, everyone except Peter and me let out a laugh. Connor, it seemed, guffawed the most. Peter grew a little angry and had yelled at everyone who laughed. "You would think gentlemen like yourselves wouldn't laugh at such a thing," Peter mumbled.

"I think you should rephrase that, Peter," Collin chuckled, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "Gentlemen like ourselves could laugh at someone like you anytime."

"Especially when the yankee girl completely pinned you," Connor said, grinning from ear to ear and his red freckles seemed to glow with happiness. Peter's face blew up like a balloon and he started chasing Connor, throwing his fist in the air and yelling out insults.

"Don't mind them," Maxwell said stiffly, regaining his composure far faster than anyone could have, though I saw some of the past hysterics still aflame in his brown eyes. Collin listening intently. "They're just two chaps who can't see past the ends of their noses. It's getting late, we could walk you home."

I happily took his offer as he was correct, the sky was starting to turn from grey to black and everyone was leaving from work to go to their houses and families. So we all walked towards my hotel, either recalling events or telling jokes. Connor told most of the jokes and everyone either smiled or laughed. I didn't get any of them, but I chuckled to be polite. I even told one.

"Okay, so there's a priest, a rabbi, and a minister," I had said. "The three want to go see who's best at his job. So they each go into the woods, find a bear, and attempt to convert it. Later they get together. The priest begins: 'When I found the bear, I read to him from the Catechism and sprinkled him with holy water. Next week is his First Communion.'

'I found a bear by the stream,' the minister says. 'And preached God's Holy Word. The bear was so mesmerized that he let me baptize him.'

They both look down at the rabbi, who is lying on a gurney in a body cast. 'Looking back,' he says, 'maybe I shouldn't have started with the circumcision.'"

I laughed at it, but no one seemed to be as happy as I. Maxwell told a joke that was returned by a blank stare from yours truly.

"A week before my grandfather died, my grandmother spread lard onto his back," he had told us. "After that, he went downhill very quickly."

This was the joke that everyone laughed at the most and I felt totally out of it. I didn't even smile and my brow furrowed in confusion as I tried to understand it. Collin explained that lard was slippery and that at some point, his grandfather fell and died a week later. At first, I thought it was a true story. It turns out that Maxwell's grandfather was living in the English countryside. I was not amused and I walked farther away from them, scolding them like a mother for some joke like that. They quit laughing until Peter pushed Connor into Collin and that started a fight. I had to turn around to witness it and I sniggered. I wish we could have kept walking for the rest of the night, but I reached the hotel about five minutes later. We all said goodbye, as the boys had to go home and I had to retreat to my bed. Before they went, each one of them gave me his phone number and e-mail. I returned the favor before turning away to face the elevator. When I walked into the metal box and looked outside the lobby window, they were gone and the loneliness followed close behind.

* * *

SxMfan: Those jokes that I told were voted America's Funniest Joke and the United Kingdom's Funniest Joke, America's being the joke with the priest and rabbi and Britain's being the one with lard.

Sandy's reaction to each of them was based on my mine. I laughed for five minutes straight at America's funniest joke and hated, HATED the British one. It just seemed so evil that it's not funny. "He went downhill very quickly", that's so MEAN. Oh, and Sandy's output on London is mine too. I honestly would rather go to Paris or New York because London just seemed kind of boring. No offense, I still think that it's cool in it's own way and I'd actually kind of like to go. Don't kill be, Britons, I'm going to make fun of Americans too. (I'm American, BTW, so that might make you feel better.)

Now, I know you all are going to bash me for making Maxwell have a British accent, but I felt as though it fit his personality. Besides, Maxwell is an English name, so there.

My dad bought an American and British English book that showed all the differences in our languages. I guess that's what inspired me to do this. THE MORE YOU KNOW! :D

Review please?


	2. Werewolves of London

SxMFan: This is definitely going to be a humor chapter. And it just might be my favorite.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hamtaro. But I do own the British English dictionary that helped me write this chapter. There's some funny stuff in there, everyone, they call "cotton candy" "candy floss". LOL

BTW, Werewolves of London is a song. It's a weird one, but I got used to it and it's pretty funny if you get it.

This chapter is dedicated to the song Hey, Soul Sister by Train. And Tik Tok by Ke$ha.

Chapter 2: Werewolves of London

Today was surprisingly less overcast and you could see hints of blue up in the sky. It made me a little happier and I had a skip in my step as I walked to these soccer fields that Maxwell and the others had described to me. It was south of downtown London and getting through all of the crowds in the early morning traffic was exhausting. I had arrived out of breath and red in the face.

"Oi! Yankee Sandy Dandy is here, mates!" Peter called once he had looked up. He had set himself on the bleachers, picking at a blade of grass. Maxwell and Collin were talking by the goal post while Connor juggled a soccer ball. I smiled and put my head down a little. Really, I wasn't the shy type, but I just felt a little different around these folks. Everyone had heard Peter's yell and quickly hustled over to me, forming some sort of semi-circle around me. They were all pretty tall, Collin being the shortest and Maxwell being the tallest, and if you were an average girl like me, it was a pretty intimidating sight. Connor held the soccer ball on his head, waiting for instructions.

"Alright, let's play a little bit of football before we get lunch," Maxwell announced, clapping his hands together. I couldn't help but wonder if he acted like the leader for these guys. He turned around to me and smirked. "It'll give you a taste of our sport. Remember, football is England's specialty, so you better be scared." He gave me a broad smile in a joking way.

I was downright confused. Football was created in America, right? And even if we were going to play, they brought the wrong ball. I didn't want to be rude so I said, "Okay. Like, are we playing flag or two hand touch?"

Now _they_ were the ones who were downright confused. I flushed and tried to wave it off, but before I could back out of their stupid football game, Peter laughed. "Oh, right, I forgot that you're from America," he chortled. "Here, we call soccer _football_. We're not going to tackle each other to the ground, thank you very much. Ready to learn a few other things?"

I slowly nodded and Peter dragged me over to the bleachers. He pointed his right index finger at them. "Terraces or stands. They're not called bleachers." Everyone left behind didn't follow a word that he said. It made me feel smart, which I usually wasn't.

"The entire field is a called a pitch," Peter said, walking me back over the group. He smiled a full grin at me. "I'll teach you more phrases later."

"Thanks," I replied and we soon set up our teams. I didn't actually want to play, but since I told them I joined a soccer league back in fourth and fifth grade, I was positioned as goalie. Maxwell didn't play, which I thought was kind of weird since he was the one bragging about England's awesome soccer team, but he explained to me that being referee was a better idea when playing soc- football with these "chaps". At that, I was even more worried than before, wondering how these guys settled arguments without a referee. So anyway, Peter was partnered with me while Connor and Collin were a team of two. I wondered how only two people running on the field would make the game fun, but it turned out to be something different. While Collin and I stood on the opposite ends of the field (Pitch, I mean. Man, I'm never going to get used to this!), Peter and Connor punched and kicked each other for the ball. Maxwell had already called two fouls on Peter for rough play. Connor had this smirk on his face when the blond had started arguing and I could now see why Maxwell was the ref. He was really good at getting his way and the tallness of his stature made someone want to back down in an instant. I was so thankful that I stood out by post and wasn't out on the field.

I had stopped paying attention to the game after Peter kicked the ball in between Connor's legs and made a breakthrough, charging at Collin with his arms pumping up and down. Figuring that it was going to be an easy goal, my eyes wandered off. I couldn't help but stare at Maxwell. His hair was a mystery to me as he spiked it up and let it fall onto his eyes, yet he could still see. I thought about my own bangs and they swooped over my left side. I pondered the differences between us. For one, I was blonde and he was a brunette. But the way he dressed and acted amazed me. He wore an unbuttoned collar shirt and a plain white long sleeve under it with regular brown pants and dress shoes. I was wearing a tank top with "USA Approved" on it and denim shorts with red Converse. Cleary, we were very different, but that couldn't stop the blush from rising to my cheeks. Shaking my head, I didn't even want to think of us dating. I barely knew the guy after all and-

"Sandy! Oi, watch out for Connor!" a voice yelled from the other side of the field. (I'm just going to call it a field now.) It was Peter's voice and my fantasy bubble popped as I turned away and saw Connor right in front of me, winding up his leg for a kick. But it was too late and he drove the ball right into the goal, the sphere rolling by my left foot. Dang it, I should've had that, it was so easy!

"Hail Britannia!" Connor yelped, throwing his arms in the air and putting his head up to the sky. I grabbed the ball and was tempted to throw it at his head for no particular reason. Okay, so I'm a little bit of a violent person. I blame Stan's boxing tournaments that I used to attend.

Maxwell put his arms up to signal a goal and the rest of the morning continued like that. After Connor's goal, Peter and I switched positions and I had gotten two goals by lunchtime. On the way to a café for a meal, everyone complimented me on my soccer skills, pointing out the way I run like Usain Bolt. I let them all talk, excited about how I impressed them.

In New York, I had been known as the softball, hockey, football, soccer, track, and basketball star. Even though the streets were polluted with the waste the buildings spewed out of their chimneys, I had managed to practice at some sort of field everyday. My mom hated it whenever I went out to play, shaking her head and scolding, "Either you have strong lungs or you're really dedicated." In Central Park, I remember playing catch with Stan and we would later go boulder climbing there. It was all great fun and after a race to the top of the rocks, Stan and I would walk to Junior's and get a strawberry cheesecake for us to share. If I had to rate their cheesecakes on a scale of one to ten, they would get a twenty-seven. It just makes me want to do a cheesecake dance. I licked my lips involuntarily as we neared the café. Maybe I could get a taste of something like that at this eatery we were heading to.

Once we had arrived, the five of us sat a booth, with Maxwell and Collin on one side, and Peter, Connor, and me on the other. My eyes whizzed around the eatery. The décor was red, with some plants found in the corners. A family sat at a table while a man stood at the front desk, paying the bill. It was a small room, but the aura seemed to glow with quaint happiness. The bored looking waitress cleaning a spotless table looked up at us and her eyes lit up with excitement. I didn't blame her, this wasn't lunch hour. It was only 10:30 AM, but I was still hungry. I had decided to skip breakfast to make sure that I was on time to play soccer.

Hustling to our table while pulling out a pen and writing pad, she wiped a lock of blonde hair away and beamed. "What can I get for you-" She counted us by flicking her pen to each person. "Five today?"

"Fish and chips for all of us," Maxwell said and then looked at me. He smiled and turned his head to the waitress. "And a toad in the hole."

British book guy say wha…? I watched with blank eyes as our server wrote down the orders.

"Tea to go around?"

"Yes, please."

The waitress nodded her head and skipped off to the kitchen. My eyes still followed her and Peter had to shake me to get me back into reality.

"Are you alright?" he asked while Connor sniggered beside him.

"M-Make sure that the toad is dead, okay?" I weakly said. Collin and Maxwell looked at each other at the same time and covered their mouths to hide their laughter. Connor and Peter went ahead and guffawed.

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Maxwell explained, "A toad in the hole is dish where there are sausages in Yorkshire pudding. There's no amphibian in there, Sandy."

"Oh." I smiled at my dumbness and suddenly, the topic changed to places we've been after Collin had asked how Peter knew so many American phrases.

"Let me think… My dad was on a business trip to New York and he brought my mum, my sister, and me," Peter recalled, staring out into space as he told his story. "He told us we should go see a baseball game- It's like cricket, Connor, don't give me that look- and we saw some team called the Yankees or whatever. I remember everyone calling the pitch a field and beefburgers, hamburgers. It was all very confusing. Not to mention that the game lasted for over three hours, my goodness. After that, I guess I learned a couple more phrases. Did you know they call an aeroplane, an airplane?"

I poked my fork with my index finger. "So you're saying," I told him slowly. "That you got to see a real, live Yankees game."

"Yes. What about it?"

"What about it?!" I nearly screamed. Grabbing his collar, I spat, "Like, do you know how much it costs to get to even the_ top_ seats?! Clubhouse seats cost at least five hundred dollars! I've never been to a Yankees game, it was too expensive! Dude, you're so lucky! Did you go into Yankees stadium?"

Flabbergasted, Peter stammered, "W-Well, I went when I was ten-"

I gasped, clapping my head on my forehead in dismay. "So you went inside Yankee Stadium before it was torn down! Aw, man, you are, like, the luckiest guy in the world!"

"But don't you live in New York?" Collin pointed out. "I mean, if you lived there, you could have gotten a ticket to one of those baseball games."

I sat straight up, the conversation going where I wanted. Towards me, of course. "Yeah, but only the totally rich kids could go. My family used to live in an apartment above this restaurant in Chinatown. But my dad went and he said it was almost magical."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Collin flushed. I couldn't see why he acted all sorry for me. I mean, I was happy in New York and it seemed that they didn't think that I was.

"Hey, hey, it's all right," I replied, smiling. "I didn't live in the totally crowded places of the city, so it was fun to live in Chinatown. Not to mention I got egg rolls all the time."

As we talked, I learned that Connor and Collin's parents were business people who ran a chain of tailor shops. Connor was the oldest, though he acted the most childish. They lived in a manor in Scotland on a private estate with their grandpa and grandma, with four dogs in the place. Their home in England was just a small apartment for the time being. Peter's dad was divorced and he worked as a Tower of London guard, Peter having one little sister and living in a house. His soon-to-be stepmother resided in Wales and Peter and his sister visited her often. Maxwell was the only son of a bookstore owner whom owned a ton of different houses around Europe whenever they needed to go on a vacation. His father was the owner of the bookstore while his mother worked for the London Times.

Finally, our food came, the waitress balancing five baskets of fish sticks and French fries on her arm and finally heaving a giant plate of what looked to be like mac and cheese. Then, she came back a second later with teacups and a kettle, placing tea pack into one cup each. After she poured the steaming water, the waitress said, "Just come to the front when you're ready to pay."

Again, the person didn't say "Enjoy!" or anything like that, but I was too hungry to ever notice. I took a bite of the fish stick and smiled. It was exactly like the fish fillets at Country Buffet when I went to visit my aunt out in Tennessee. I quickly devoured a French fry and once I was done with the entire basket of fish sticks and fries, I shoved it to the side a little. Wiping my fingers on a napkin, I took my fork and looked up at Collin. "Think I should eat this?" I asked him, pointing to the toad in the hole.

Collin smiled. "Triple dog dare you."

Beaming back, I took a mouthful of the content and chewed slowly, only thinking about the taste. It didn't taste anything like a toad, thank God. I took another bite, my stomach finally full after I swallowed.

"That fish and chips thing was like, awesome," I said quickly. I really didn't know how to describe the toad in the hole. "But I didn't see any chips. We were supposed to get Lays or something like that?"

Peter patted me on my shoulder. "We're gonna take this slow now. Chips mean French fries. You know what bangs mean?"

Everyone snickered except for Maxwell, whom seemed to scold Peter with his eyes. Collin elbowed him and Maxwell stuck his nose up in the air. No, it wasn't like I was staring at him, even though it was kind of funny to see that tinge of pink rise up to his face when he made eye contact with me… Oh, wait, what was I doing?

"Sure I know what bangs mean," I giggled. I pulled my bangs behind my ear. "They swoop over my left eye. My mom let me have them in first grade. Well, because she would always pull them back."

At this, everyone laughed out loud, slapping their hands against the table. Maxwell managed to hold back a chuckle, but I could see that he was fighting a smile. "Come now, you lot," he scolded, looking as if he was going to smash Connor's face into the window for laughing the hardest. "You all are better than that."

"Well, if you're so smart, Maxwell," Connor said, his eyebrow raising. "You can tell her what it means. I'm sure you're mature enough to tell her."

Maxwell blushed and remained quiet while Peter whispered to me what it meant. "Bangs in the US mean the front of your hair," he said. "But in the UK, they are a reflection of your sex life."

Crap. Didn't see that coming. Did I really say that I got my bangs in first grade?

"Y-You're all a bunch of perverts," I stammered, trying to smile. I thought for a moment. "You should meet my brother then."

Most of them gave me a "Why?" look and I had to wave it off. I really didn't want to get into the little details of what Stan says just about every day. After a really awkward silence, the topic switched from… bangs… to the differences between American and British English. Maxwell told us that there were 4,000 different words between the two. Holy fish and chips, that's a lot. I really was freaking out about how I could remember them. First off, a derby wasn't a _derby_; it was a _bowler hat_. The trunk of a car is the _boot_, the front is the _bonnet_. Apparently, when someone says _Holy cow!_ in the US, someone in the UK would say _Stone the crows!. _I'm worried on a number of levels now.

"The only thing I don't get," Connor said slowly, sipping a bit of tea. "Is why the trash bin is called a trashcan. Does it even look like a can?"

"Yeah," I intervened, smiling. "It's all circular and stuff so therefore, it's a trashcan. Plus, you put trash in it."

Connor's face soured like a lemon. "But it's not trash, it's rubbish. And it's a bin."

"Well, why do you all, like, call the sidewalk a pavement?" I argued lightly. "It's called a sidewalk because you walk on the side of the road. Get it?"

Connor managed a tight smile. "Yeah, but-"

"And I just realized-"

Connor pointed at me and yelled, "Aha! You can't even spell _realised_ correctly. Really, I cannot believe your love affair with the letter Z."

"Hey, you all, calm down," Maxwell said, calmly picking up a biscuit that the waitress had placed on our table after Connor's outburst. Collin nodded in agreement. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Peter looked bemused and I continued with my argument.

"Oh, yeah?" I giggled, standing up on my seat. I didn't care if everyone stared, it was just funny to watch their horrified faces. "I don't get why you add a U to color. It makes it sound all French and you don't even need it. O does fine on his own, thank you very much."

"That letter belongs in the word _colour_!"

"O!"

"U!"

"O!"

"U!"

"Spank me harder!" Peter yelled and Maxwell kicked him the shin to shut him up. He succeeded rather well.

Connor and I glared at each other, narrowing our eyes as I sat back down, Peter under the ground as he held his bruising leg. I must have won the staring contest because Connor lowered his eyes and said softly, "That O is a bloody slut."

I nodded. "I bet U calls out O's name in bed."

"We're done with this!" Maxwell announced, hastily going to his tea and shaking his head in disgust. At this, Connor and I laughed a little, high fived each other, and helped Peter up, positioning himself in his original seat. I could have sworn that Maxwell had chuckled when Peter glared up at him.

Once everyone was finished with their meal, we paid the cashier and I left a tip for the waitress. She looked a little confused with how much it was, but I left before she could protest. When Maxwell held the door open for everyone, I felt rain patter on my head _again_. What was with this country and rain? Quickly, I threw my hood onto my head while the others fought over Collin's umbrella that he had brought with him. Gosh, that guy was prepared. Connor and Peter immediately charged at each other, shoving and kicking while cursing. Collin and Maxwell were positioned under the shield and their eyes widened in fright when Peter was knocked down in the street. I must have gasped because Connor glanced at me, grinning. Peter let out a war cry and tackled Connor to the ground and he made a breakthrough towards the safety of the umbrella, only to be brought down again. Civilians tossed their heads over their shoulders to watch the brawl and then kept walking. But when two cops down the street met our eyes, Collin kicked Connor to stop. The red head glanced up and hastily got up, slipping a little on the wet ground as he nodded. They nodded and Peter shoved Connor's shoulder, still bitter about the fight. Maxwell sighed and stepped out from the protection of the umbrella and the cold rain beat down on his hair. Wow, he didn't even care that he was wearing a T-shirt. And I didn't really expect to come up right next to me. I smiled at him, teeth chattering as I wasn't used to so much rain and cold at the same time. It seemed that the iciness of the downpour didn't bother him and he smiled back. It was just one corner of his mouth going up, so he still looked severe as ever, but it just made the blush creep up to my face. Collin stared in amazement as I involuntarily clung to Maxwell's left and we walked down the sidewalk. I could have sworn for a second that Peter glared at us, but Maxwell looked curiously at me when I turned my head back like an owl so I twisted my neck around. But the glower that Peter had given me stabbed into my heart and I let go of Maxwell's arm, feeling even colder as the rain intensified and the warmth I just felt burning out.

* * *

_Hi, hi sandy!_

_i just wanted to see if u got ur b-day present. penelope is doing fine, thanks for asking. school's finally out and i can't believe we're juniors now! i hope you go to a cool high school, but don't replace me with the new friends u meet, okay? BTW did u meet any cute boys in london? don't hate me 'cuz i said that, i'm just curious you know._

_ missing you,_

_ Pashmina ;)_

I giggled at the last sentence that Pashmina had typed. Even if she was an ocean away, she still had the patience and compassion to write me an e-mail. I re-read it twice and frowned when she asked me about my birthday present. I never got anything and since I was staying in a hotel, she couldn't have given me a present-

Just as I was thinking this, a knock on the door was heard and I looked through the peeky hole in it to see who it was. It was one of the hotel bellboys. Dang it. If it was Stan, I would have locked him out. I unlocked the door and swung it open so I could see him face to face.

"Uh, this came to the front desk, ma'am," he said in a shaky voice. "Are you Sandy?" Once I nodded, he held out the package he was holding to me. "From NYC, ma'am."

"Thanks," I said in a monotone, eyeing what the package was. He made a little bow and loped down the stairs. Confused, I ripped off the tape on the little box and lifted out what was inside. What I revealed was a bracelet that had "Best" stitched onto it. There was a card that said "Happy Birthday!" on the front in bold, red letters. I opened the card to reveal a message from Pashmina, saying how this was a friendship bracelet and she had the other one. Overwhelmed with joy, I swiftly ran back to my laptop and rapidly punched in letters.

_Pashy! _

_I totally cant believe u got this for me! (my bday present) Let me guess… U have a bracelet that says friends, right? thanks so much! _

_yea, i cant believe how fast time goes by. next year, we're seniors, girl! i feel really bad that i cant watch dexter blow up another science experiment though. man, i really wish that i could be with you until the end of high school. totally not fair_

_NO I WILL NEVER REPALCE YOU HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT. DON'T YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THAT!_

_nah, I didn't meet any cute boys_

I stopped typing right here. I stared at the word "nah" and automatically thought about Maxwell and how he looked when water beat down on his face. His cute, wonderful fac-

Shaking my head, I continued with my email.

_but i did meet some boys who were nice to me. that's about it though, i have to go now, pashy, ill talk to u later. bff's forever!_

_ missing u even more_

_ Sandy :D_

Sighing, I closed my laptop and propped my face up with my hands . I jumped when I felt my phone vibrate and I hurriedly picked it up. _Caller: Maxwell_, it read_._

Ah, crap.

* * *

SxMfan: Yeah, this was kinda rushed. I noticed that when I FINALLY post a new chapter, it gets BURIED in other people's stories. So not cool.

Uh-oh, Sandy whatcha gonna do? Are you crushing on Maxy? And is Peter jealous? Why am I listing questions that I'm gonna address in the next chapter? Why won't you review? Why does banana taste yucky? WHY DON'T YOU PRESS THAT REVIEW BUTTON RIGHT THERE?!


	3. The Queen of New York

SxMfan: Many thanks to those of you who reviewed!

This chapter's going to focus more on the major plot. And other chapters shall be more action-like. Hooray! :D

This chapter is dedicated to the song "A Man For All Seasons" from the British movie Johnny English. Hilarious. You should so watch it.

Chapter 3: Queen of New York

_"Don't stop! Believing! Hold onto that feeling!"_

I debated on whether or not I should answer my phone. First of all, I doubt I could after I started sweating a storm and it was hard to keep a grip on the cellular device. Then, the caller just had to be Maxwell, the guy whose head might have been burned if Peter glared at him any longer. I felt bad for Peter, but I wasn't sure if he was jealous so I clicked the "Accept" button.

"Hello?" I mustered, trying to be a little calm as I laid my head on my pillow. Just as soon as I said that, my laptop sounded a "Ding!" and I realized that Pashmina must have answered my last e-mail.

"Hi, is this Sandy?" I could recognize Maxwell's voice and my fingertips shook from excitement. Trying to steady my breathing, I lifted my face from my pillow.

"You got it!" I said confidently in the phone as I opened my inbox on the computer, scanning for my friend's reply. "What's up?"

"Um…" Maxwell must have been confused and I had to bite my lip from laughing. "Nothing. I was wondering… You didn't touch your tea at the diner today."

I thought back to our meal as I read the first word of my new e-mail. "Uh, dear-"

"What?!"

"O-Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just reading an e-mail from my friend. I kind mixed up my words. I-I didn't mean it like that," I flushed, mentally slapping myself. "W-What were we talking about?" I continued once I shook off the embarrassment.

"Tea. You didn't drink any today."

"Uh-huh… Maxwell, can you give me a moment to read this really fast, it'll be quick." He complied and I hastily put my phone on speaker, just in case he said something when I was typing.

I scanned my e-mail quickly, pushing my eyes forward like magnets.

_ Dear Sandy, (Sorry to put it all formal and stuff. I just had to and I'm bored.)_

_ I'm glad you liked your present. I'm going to wear my bracelet every day and you can if you want. No, Sandy, my bracelet doesn't say "Friends", it says "Pickle". Of course it says friends! You're the best one I've got along with Penelope. I hope high school will be fun for me, but I've heard that Jingle has a crush on me. DX I think I'm going to puke, Dexter and Howdy were enough, weren't they?_

_ Just how many boys did you meet? Only four hundred? Haha, I'm just kidding. Please don't swim back to NYC and beat me to death._

_ Miss you the most,_

_ Pashmina ;)_

Giggling, I typed out my reply. But since I didn't want to keep Maxwell waiting too long, I asked, "Are you still there?"

"Yep."

"I hope you're okay with this. It'll just take me another two minutes to reply."

I heard I pause and I figured that he was either scowling or sighing. He was just like that. "Well, since you're an American and you're going to take two minutes, it'll take you seven. But I can wait."

Grinning, I said, "Thanks. But you'll only have to wait five minutes, believe me."

After only three minutes, my e-mail was complete and I quickly proofread for any errors. Ha, take that, Maxwell!

_Dear Pashmina, (I'm going to be formal too, haha.)_

_ Awesome, we're friends forever! Glad we established that. Jingle, yikes. Oh, well, he can serenade you and read his poems about how pink your scarf is. Just kidding. Please don't swim to London and scold me to death._

_ Pashy! I only met four boys, I'll have you know. Connor, Collin, Peter, and Maxwell, all outside of this school while I was in town. I just hung out with them today, it was pretty cool._

I thought for a moment and looked back to my phone, picking it up and cradling it in my hand. "Hey, Maxwell, I'm talking to my friend Pashmina in NYC. Do you want me to mention you?"

Maxwell let out a soft laugh. "As long as you make sure that I'm not listed as the bad guy."

"Why would I do that?"

He sighed into the phone and I could just imagine his smile as he spoke. "In most movies, Brits are the villains. I guess it's just how the world sees us. That's too bad, then they don't get the fun lines."

I thought about this for a second. Thinking back to kid's movies, I was shocked to remember that villains were usually British. Clayton from Tarzan. Scar from the Lion King. Tai Long from Kung Fu Panda. Judge Claude Frollo from Hunchback of Notre Dame. Ego from Ratatouille, even if he turned all nice at the end. It was then that I just realized how awesome my childhood was. Diving into my main point of conversation, I asked him what Maxwell liked, disliked, what he thought of NYC. We talked for at least twenty minutes before he reminded me to start typing again. The words clicking into my head, I typed what I had just discussed, like taking notes on my phone in high school.

_I'm talking to Maxwell on the phone right now. He says that he REALLY likes reading and all the smart stuff. He listens to classic British rock like the Rolling Stones and the Beatles. His dad's a bookstore owner and his mom's a journalist. Oh, and he says that when he was four, he believed a unicorn lived in his front yard. XD God, I wish you could meet him, along with my other new friends._

_ Tell me how Hamtaro and the others are doing, okay?_

_ Take care,_

_ Sandy :D_

I read over my e-mail to Maxwell and I could hear him chuckle at some points. He asked me a couple of questions about Pashmina and me, like how we met and what we did when we hung out. I pulled up a memory from fifth grade when we walked into the teacher's lounge instead of the copy room. We stayed there for the rest of the day, playing tic-tac-toe and singing songs. Once, the janitor walked in and we both froze, but instead of turning us in, he bought us each a lime soda. When we got back to class, our excuse was that we had just gotten lost. After all, our elementary school was combined with a middle school so they just had to buy it, right? After I told him this story, he laughed the hardest I've ever heard, but then urged me to send my e-mail. I clicked the "Send" button and then closed my laptop, wanting to make up for the lost minutes. I collapsed onto my bed, announcing into my phone that I was finished and Maxwell continued with his question.

"So since you didn't drink your tea, I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house for dinner," he said. "We're having roast beef by the way."

Smirking, I replied, "This is all because of tea?"

Oddly, there was a chilling silence on the other end of the phone. Before I could make sure that he was still there, Maxwell lowered his voice. I had to strain to make sure that I heeded every word. "Well… Not exactly. I'll tell you when you come over. It's really important."

Seeing the change in atmosphere, I quietly obliged and hung up with a silent goodbye, awestruck of what he wanted. My heart did a flip as I thought of a love confession, but when I reviewed my theory, it was pretty corny. Sighing, I shrugged my jacket on, fetching a pale red umbrella in the corner, and left the room. I questioned my parents on whether or not I could no, and hesitantly, they concurred with my plan, as long as I was back before eight. Ugh, why did they have to be so over-protective, I was sixteen now, dang it!

Believe it or not, it was raining when I stepped out of the hotel and a downpour of rain collapsed onto my head. Letting out a sigh of disappointment, I opened my umbrella and threw it over my head, gripping onto the soaked handle. Then, I realized that Maxwell's house was too far away to walk to and that meant that I had to take a taxi. This time, I let out a groan of frustration and snapped my umbrella back into its original position. I pulled back my bangs- Ahem, I mean _clips_. (The discussion I had with Connor yesterday still made me cringe.) Perking up my head despite the free shower, I made my way through the sidewalk and finally called a taxi. I had to admit, the black vehicle made a yellow cab look so much cooler. I opened the door and jumped inside, nearly hitting my head on top of the car.

" 'Ello, where to, mum?" the driver said in a think, London accent.

"768 Kirkland Drive," I replied. The driver nodded and smiled, smashing his foot on the pedal and taking the cab off like a rocket. At first, I nearly screamed, but after a while, I thought it was quite enjoyable as the raindrops scattered across the windshield. I wasn't really paying attention to the radio blazing on about something, but when a reporter came around saying stuff about the royal family, the driver almost went through a red light. I actually squealed when he slammed his foot onto the brake, just in time before an SUV pounded into us. He didn't notice me hyperventilating in the backseat and instead, turned the radio up, ears listening intently.

"…And we've received word from the SIS that Tuesday, the reconstructed crown jewels have been stolen-"

"Stolen?!" the driver repeated in shock, bringing a hand to his face. "Blimey, I drove a lad down to the tower at five o' clock on Tuesday!"

At this, I'm assuming he went into panic mode as the green light went on and he wound the black cab around the corner and went ten mph over the speed limit to Maxwell's. Confused as Hamtaro during a pi quiz, I tried several times to ask him what the dude on the radio said, but he remained silent for the rest of the time, his grey eyes bulging out of their sockets. The car screeched to a stop and, without talking, I ran outside, ready with my wallet, but when I turned to pay him, my driver had already drove off. Hmmm. Weird. Shaking my head and shoving the money into my pocket, I supposed Maxwell would know something about it.

I ran up the wet concrete steps, ignored the umbrella hanging limply on my arm. For a moment, I ignored the completely beautiful house (If that's what you call it because it sure as heck looked like some kind of mansion), and immediately ran to the doorbell. After I rang it, I leaned back from the door, ready for it to open. And it did, but I was surprised that it wasn't Maxwell. In fact, it was a dude in a suit with his spine perpendicular to the ground at a perfect angle.

"Are you Sandy?" he asked me, in a booming voice. His blue eyes looked down on me. Hey, I didn't say I was the tallest girl in the world…

"Yeah," I replied slowly and with a wave of his gloved hand, I entered the house.

I barely heard the door close. My head strained up to see a giant, marble staircase before me, creeping it's way up to the second floor. Then, the beautifully carved windows gave a grand entrance and all of the energy from even the gloomy clouds managed to give it an elegant, bright feeling. But what really got me was the glass chandelier hanging delicately on the ceiling. It was lit and the light burst from it, illuminating the walls and the stylish furniture. I really could barely move, let alone breathe.

"Ma'am," the man behind me said. "Do you wish to see Maxwell?"

Dang it. I was still looking at the flowers flaunted in the corner. They were roses, my favorite. Not like I actually cared. I wasn't a girly girl like Pashmina, remember? Shaking my head, I turned around to smile at the man who opened the door. "Sorry, I just think that this is, like, such a wicked place. Now, where was Maxwell?"

"Right this way, ma'am."

He led me into the piano room, where it was just as breathtaking as the one with the chandelier in it. Maxwell was sitting on a bean bag chair in the corner of the room reading some giant book with an empty soda can by his side. I smiled. Its irony at it's best.

"Maxwell, you have someone to see you," the man next to me bellowed. Maxwell jerked his head up, ripping his eyes from his book. I guess he never heard us enter the room. At last, the bookworm smiled.

"Thanks, Edmund. Could you make us some tea?"

The man named Edmund nodded and quickly strolled out of the room to perform his next task. My mouth was still hanging open at the fact that this guy did anything Maxwell said… How rich was the bookish guy again?

"Are you okay?"

Maxwell's voice whipped me back into reality and I was separated from my current thoughts. He gestured me to a neighboring bean bag chair and I dragged it over to were he was sitting. I sighed as I plopped down onto the chair and Maxwell closed his book, laying it at his feet. Making sure Edmund left the room, I gasped, "You have a butler?!?"

"Uh… Just for the summer. Besides, the maid usually does all of the work around here."

"… What the haggleflaggen."

Maxwell looked curiously at me and laughed, "Is that another crazy Yankee saying?"

"Yeah, you better believe it, British buddy," I lied while giggling, feeling the mood lighten a little. Before I could throw a joking insult at him to counteract fake affront, Maxwell's mood quickly darkened at amazing speed. I could feel my smile ceasing and the curves of my lips stiffen to a straight line. Crossing my legs uneasily, I bit my fingernails. "So… Why did you, like, call me over?"

Maxwell sighed and rose from his chair, walking to the enormous window to the right corner of the room. He watched the rain patter onto the glass, seeming to space out as he narrowed his eyes. All I could do was sit there, trying not to sink into the bean bag chair. Before I could ask him again, he spoke. "You know my dad runs a bookstore, right?"

I nodded in reply. He didn't even look back to see if I answered his question. "Well," he continued. "He had to close it down."

An eerie silence fell upon the both of us, strangling us enough to hear each other's breaths. Creepy. I didn't know what to say, as I couldn't read Maxwell's emotions in his swirling brown eyes, even when he turned around to sit on the piano bench beside me. He put his face in his hands.

"I honestly don't know what to do. My mum also got fired from her London Times job last week," he prolonged weakly, his face blank and pale. "I don't know why this is happening all of the sudden."

A ripple of sadness and pity shoved down my throat, shock choking me so much that I couldn't say anything. That, and the fact that I was completely befuddled. Why did he call me over then? I mean, it wasn't like I was his closest friend (I was guessing that was Collin). I had just met Maxwell two days ago and he's pouring all of this out at me. Why me? Why make me feel awkward and guilty?

"I suppose you're wondering why I called you over here," he faintly chuckled. Whoa, that guy's a mind reader, I swear. Was my confused expression really that obvious? He smiled at me, infecting me with the happiness and I had to softly grin back, just to match his visage.

"You told me at the restaurant that your dad worked at the New York Times. I was wondering if there was an opening so my mum could…"

"Way ahead of you," I said. "I'm pretty sure we could have another opening. My dad can get your mom in, don't you worry. I'm just wondering why you told me about your dad's shop."

Maxwell paled and rubbed the back of his neck, flushed. "Well, my dad has a business partner. His name is Timothy, Tim, for short. Anyway, the man quit about a month ago after my dad declined his idea to make a chain of bookstores. He was so mad, Sandy, he started to trash the entire bookstore. Once everything was cleaned up, he swore he would close the bookstore down. And… I guess he did. I was wondering if your dad knew anything about it. You know, since he's a journalist and a member of the press." He snapped his neck up and started jabbering some crud that I could barely follow. "B-But, I'm really sorry if I had annoyed you with this. You can go home right now if you want. After all, it's almost dinner and it's raining and, well-"

"It's okay, Maxwell," I hummed softly, trying to sound a little sorry. "I'm really sorry about your mom and dad. If you need any help, just give me a call, 'kay? I'll be, like, a heroine!"

I couldn't help but leap up and pull him into a giant bear hug after I was done with my mini speech. I jumped at his right side, lifting my arms over his shoulders. Hugs make everyone feel better, science proves it if you don't believe me! I smiled and closed my eyes, letting go after about three seconds.

"U-Uh, Maxwell, I have your tea."

Oh, no, the butler must have seen me hugging the bookworm. I turned to see Maxwell and, boy, I wish I had a camera. His face was chalk white and he appeared as if he saw a monkey that just put soap in his mouth. The oh-so-smart Maxwell looked so confused, I just let a boisterous laugh. Edmund the butler quickly set the tea down on a nearby table and almost ran out of the room, tripping over his feet. At this, I laughed even more, but was quickly quieted down by Maxwell.

He whipped around at full speed and hissed, "What was that?!"

I shrugged. "A hug?"

"Well, don't do it again," he whispered, looking back as if another family member or worker would pop in at any second. "I'm British. I don't show my affections except towards dogs and horses."

"I'm, like, American so I show my affections to everything except North Korea."

At this, Maxwell grinned at me, raising an eyebrow and sighing. I simply beamed back, hands behind my back. He walked to the table, pouring the tea. I watched as the steam sprang out from the kettle in fluffy clouds to his face. He handed me my teacup, taking one for himself. I studied it, swirling it around in the cup. Never once have I ever drunk tea. Well, I drank some Snapple Iced Tea and that was good, so I lifted the cup to my lips and took a sip.

"It's Earl Grey Tea, one of the best in England. I think you'll like it-"

"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!"

Okay, when I said tea was good, I meant to say only, and ONLY, iced tea. Because just as Maxwell was talking, I spit out my tea right smack in his face. It tasted like friggn' mud. And not the good kind.

Maxwell's eyes bugged out of their sockets as the hot tea soaked his clothes and hair. My mouth hung open as I looked from the tea to him, to the tea, to him…

"Oh, my Lordy, I'm so, so, so, so, _so_ sorry," I gasped, glued to the floor. "I'll go get a towel right away and if you want me to leave I can-"

"…Hahahaha!"

His rare, sudden laughter, stopped my sentence and I stared at him in utter bewilderment. I just spat tea and him and British Boy laughs. What. The. Haggleflaggen. I was ready to be kicked in the face or get tea thrown at me, but, no, he laughs like an idiot.

"You should have seen your face when you were apologizing!" Maxwell laughed, still in his hysterics. "You poor thing, you looked as if I was going to eat you! Hahahaha!"

"Haha…" I half-chuckled, still shaky on the whole ordeal. I quickly put my tea down, not wanting to see it anymore. "Now about that towel…"

***

Dinnertime at Maxwell's felt like being the Queen of hackn' England. There were two maids, making trips to the kitchen with _courses._ Four to be exact. Geez, it was so fancy and the décor made the dining room look like a huge palace. The meal was lively as Maxwell's father had friends over. They talked and ate, with their elbows beneath the table, consumed in the conversation. I either looked at Maxwell once in a while or smiled at him or I'd play with my food, thinking of the conversation I had with the bookworm just a while ago. Oh, man, what had I gotten myself into? I mean, it sounded like some kind of cheesy soap opera. Two people lose their jobs due to some evil villain? And Maxwell goes to me? Why me? I was hoping he knew that I could do nothing about his parents' jobs, but throughout dinner, he acted happy as can be. The guilt clogged on my throat and when I couldn't look at my tea any longer, I cleared my voice. Everyone's heads turned curiously as I hadn't spoken all mealtime. Pushing my cold tea to the side, I shifted in my seat.

"On my way over here, I heard that the crown jewels, were, like stolen or something. What does that exactly mean?" I asked.

Maxwell's mother looked down and the guests (excluding me) choked on their food. The maids and butler exchanged a worried glance, one gnawing on their fingernails. Maxwell's eyes widened in shock, knuckles going white from holding his fork. Only his father seemed to remain calm as I saw his expressionless face.

"Someone took off with the crown jewels during a party on Monday night," Maxwell's father explained, relaxing in his seat. "At the Tower of London, if I do remember."

I furrowed my eyebrow. What the heck was the "Tower of London"?

As if my question was asked aloud, Maxwell read my face as easily - Gosh, I hate to say this- as easily as a book. "The clock tower. You know, Big Ben?" he explained, gesturing with his hands.

Forming an 'o' with my mouth, I slowly nodded and Maxwell's father continued. "Anyways, the fellow cut the lights and then took the crown jewels during the blackout. The Queen herself was supposed to arrive to see the new reconstruction of the jewels. Gee, that must have been terribly embarrassing for the sponsor."

"Who was the sponsor, Scott?" one of the guests inquired.

"Um, I think it was some jewelry company. Ri-Rison?"

"Ribbon, dear."

"Oh, yes, that French company!" Maxwell's dad shouted excitingly at his wife, who seemed to be sinking away from the conversation. "Wonderful family, just wonderful. Heard the owner went from cleaning daycare rooms to becoming the biggest jeweler in all of Europe! They really helped out our country's symbol. Just wonderful…"

Wonderful. I had no idea what they were talking about. Turns out after a couple more questions, I learned (Apparently, when I said this, Maxwell almost hit me upside the head. "Learnt, get it straight, Yankee, you say learnt!") that Ribbon Jeweler's workers had reconstructed the lost crown jewels. Turns out the crown jewels are the royal family's pimp stuff that keeps them royal or something. It's a shame that they were stolen. That was like saying the Statue of Liberty had a mustache. I didn't feel these English people's pain and I don't think I could ever, but I did feel bad for them. It was as if something stripped them of their identity and I didn't want to make Maxwell feel any worse. After dinner, I was escorted to the main entrance as I had to leave to get to my own family. Quickly I looked back from the doorway at a waving Maxwell with a sad smile on his face.

"See you tomorrow," he said, bidding me goodbye.

"In a while, crocodile!" I yelled back and bounced off the steps, closing the door behind me.

The rain had lightened a little, but enough to get me mildly soaked. As I made my way to my hotel, I stopped in my steps. Thinking back to what the taxi man said, I widened my eyes. It all made sense now. Cursing at myself for forgetting to bring up the most important piece of information of the crown jewels at dinner, I flung the door open, ignoring the "Hello" from the bellboy. I ran to my room, opened my laptop, and started writing my e-mail to Pashmina. I could see the pieces fall into place, but I had a solution for both Maxwell and his country.

_PASHY!!! I FIGURED IT ALL OUT!!!_

_ reply real quick, k? I NEED you here!_


End file.
